


Someone's Baby Now

by idoltina



Category: Glee
Genre: Animal Abuse, Character Death, Injury, Kitty Kurt, M/M, Malnutrition, Other, Puppy Blaine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-07
Updated: 2012-09-07
Packaged: 2017-11-21 17:02:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/600081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idoltina/pseuds/idoltina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine is an abused dog. This is the story of his recovery. <i>Each day means something now, marks a new progression and sign of his slow rehabilitation. It’s supposed to be easier, now. And it is, in some ways. Blaine can stay on his feet longer, can eat more in one sitting, isn’t afraid to be touched (mostly). He has someone to spend his days with and a warm place to sleep. Each day is easier than the last, but it’s never just that. There’s always something -- the sound of sirens outside, the accidental upturn of a hand that causes Blaine to flinch and cower, the bowl of food he can never quite seem to finish, the night the power goes out and Blaine whines in the dark. But today is different.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Someone's Baby Now

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings (if any):** Mentions of past animal abuse, mentions of character death

Burt Hummel is not a complicated guy.

It doesn’t take a whole lot to make him happy. He likes his blue jeans and t-shirts (and the occasional trucker hat, but those are more practice for later -- he _knows_ he’s going to start balding early, damn genetics). He likes cars and football and a cold bottle of beer on nights he know he doesn’t have to be up early for class or work the next day. He’s a meat and potatoes kind of guy.

But Burt is also human, and he’s twenty-one; he’s just a kid, but he’s got so much on his plate with school and taking over his dad’s garage and -- he’s a little lonely, to be honest. His parents’ death has forced him to grow up a little more quickly than some of the guys, to learn to take care of himself. He’s spent less time with his friends than he’d like, but he thinks he’s okay with that. The garage is his now, and he’s got another year until he gets his business degree, and it’s necessary for him to buckle down and focus.

He gets the kitten, first.

He figures it’s the smarter solution to his problem. Cats are easy to take care of, they don’t have to be looked after or entertained constantly. They’re the right amount of companionship at the right time (usually when it suits them, but he figures he can live with that). And Kurt -- well, Kurt looks up at him with those big blue eyes and Burt is a goner.

And then he meets Carole.

It’s the cat’s fault, really.

He meets Carole because he has Kurt. Because this is new for both of them, and because Burt’s a twenty-one-year-old college student who thinks taking care of an animal is like taking care of a kid. He needs _supplies_ , maybe not enough for a whole army, but he ends up buying more or less that amount anyway. Kurt’s the reason he ends up with half of his basket full of glittering stuffed mice, and Kurt’s the reason he’s distracted when he gets up to the register, paws batting playfully at Burt’s nose.

“He’s adorable.”

Burt snorts a little and shifts Kurt away from his face, back into the crook of his elbow, and focuses on the person assisting them, and, well. If Burt was a sucker for Kurt’s eyes, he’s not sure what he is when it comes to this girl’s smile. “Who, me or the cat?”

She laughs at him, takes his money and hands him his bag. He, in turn, takes up the last five minutes of her shift (well, he and Kurt both do, really, and Burt tries not to think about how it might be a little pathetic to be using the kitten as his _wingman_ ) and walks out of the store with a bag of supplies fit for a whole litter of kittens and a name and phone number scrawled at the bottom of his receipt.

*****

Carole is everywhere.

She’s at the pet store when Burt goes in to pick up food and litter for Kurt. She’s in his developmental psychology class when the new semester starts (a class they both admit to taking more of curiosity than necessity, and Burt cannot _believe_ his luck). She’s in the garage when her car needs an oil change.

She’s perfect.

She’s acid washed denim skirts and colorful, bulky jewelry. She’s the pretty twist of brown and auburn hair and the goddamn smile that makes him weak in the knees every time. She’s a thoughtful comment during their weekly study group and a game of pinball after. She’s her nursing major and her love for animals. Above all, she’s her heart.

She is exactly what Burt Hummel needs.

So it’s not exactly a hardship when she asks if he wants to spend his Friday afternoon with her while she volunteers at the local rescue shelter.

And it’s there, down the long row of cages with barking, yipping, excitable animals, that Burt finds him.

There’s a small puppy apart from the rest, curled up in the corner of the cage, and Burt does a double take with interest. “That the anti-social one of the bunch or something?”

Carole’s eyes drift over to the puppy in question and her entire demeanor changes -- her shoulders sag, her eyes grow misty, and Burt immediately regrets asking. Carole’s pretty when she smiles, and she’s obviously got a soft spot for the little guy. “That’s Blaine,” she answers quietly. “He came in with a litter not too long ago. The owner was neglecting them. The rest of them are doing okay, recovering, but okay. Blaine’s the runt.”

“So what, the owner forgot to feed them or something?”

“That’s part of it,” Carole sighs, reaching over to scoop a small bit of food into the bowl just inside the door of the cage. “They came to us malnourished, and he’d kept them in a small space without much interaction. And we’re not -- we’re not sure if he abused them or not. Blaine acts like he was, though.”

“How can you tell?” Burt asks, watching with interest as she moves away from the door.

“Animals tend to react one of two ways when it comes to abuse,” she explains. “They either act out and get aggressive because it’s the only way to defend themselves, or --”

“They withdraw,” Burt guesses, nodding towards the pint-sized black and white spaniel in the corner.

“He’s terrified,” Carole affirms. “He doesn’t interact with the other puppies, he avoids us like the plague. He shakes anytime we have to pick him up. He doesn’t bark or try to resist or anything. Loud noises make him jumpy. He hardly eats.” As if on cue, the puppy -- Blaine -- opens his eyes a little, glancing around, before slowly crawling across the floor towards the bowl. He drags it across the cement back to his spot, the plastic making an awkward, grating sound, and nibbles at the food for a few minutes. He doesn’t eat all that much, though, before he’s pushing the bowl back towards the door with his nose. “He never eats much more than that, and he won’t even consider touching it until I move away.”

Blaine’s eyes flick up for a fraction of a second, locking with Burt’s, before he turns tail and scuttles back into the corner. Everything inside of Burt twists and _aches_. Carole sighs and rubs a hand over her face. “I feel bad for him. I think, with time, and maybe the right people, he might be okay, but...”

“Can I take him?”

Carole blinks over at Burt, clearly surprised, and Burt feels his stomach uncoil at the way her eyes light up. “Are you sure you’re up for that?” she asks hesitantly. “It’s -- these aren’t like normal adoptions. We try to make sure they go to good homes. We don’t like people bringing them back to us just because they get in over their heads.”

“I don’t give up that easily,” Burt assures her. “I just -- he deserves to feel like he matters, you know?”

Carole smiles at him. “I think you might be the perfect fit.”

*****

Blaine’s spent his life in a cage.

Granted, he’s only nine weeks old and that’s not a long time to be alive, but he doesn’t know anything else. He tries not to think about the earlier days, because it hurts too much, but things haven’t changed a whole lot since then. When the lady from the shelter had found them, she’d move him from the cage he lived in to another one. There was more food, and his siblings seemed to be happier there, but Blaine didn’t seem much of a difference. He stayed away from the humans, even the lady who brought him his food, because he was too scared.

Now, they’re moving him again, into a smaller cage and into a big box that makes a lot of noise with a strange man, and Blaine wonders if they’re sending him back. He tries to sleep while the box moves, because he feels safe when he sleeps, but he doesn’t get beyond dozing lightly before the box stops and the man is picking up his cage and carrying him into a house. It doesn’t look like the one from before, but it’s not anywhere Blaine’s ever been before, and it doesn’t make him any less scared.

Inside the house, the man kneels down and clicks the cage door open, hand reaching inside for Blaine. Blaine immediately starts to shake, eyes squeezed shut, but the man just holds him, the same way the lady at the shelter had. “It’s okay, buddy. I’m not gonna hurt you.” But Blaine can’t stop shaking, he can’t, and he forces himself to open his eyes to try and prepare himself for whatever happens next. The man carries him over to a set of stairs and kneels down again, setting Blaine down on a soft, round surface. “You can sleep here,” the human tells him, drawing his hand away. “I figure it’s got to be more comfortable than anything else you’ve slept on.”

Blaine starts to calm down a little, only shaking in his legs now, and he takes a few tentative steps around the surface, reveling in how soft it feels under his paws. It takes Blaine a minute to realize it’s a place to sleep, a _bed_ , he has his own bed and it’s soft and warm and so much nicer than anything he’s ever had in his short little life. He circles a few times inside of it, legs unsteady from nerves and a new surface, and it’s with a slight twinge of hope that he allows himself to lie down and curl up into a ball.

The man leaves him alone, after that, and in the quiet, Blaine can sleep.

*****

Kurt’s sleeping at the foot of the bed when Burt opens the bedroom door. Burt rolls his eyes and sits down next to him, scratching him behind the ears. Kurt blinks into awareness sleepily, yawning loudly for such a small thing. He’s not much older than Blaine but is so much more well-adjusted, comfortable and playful and well taken care of. He unfurls and rolls onto his back, purring happily as Burt’s hand makes its way over his fur. “Nice nap?” Kurt meows at him, the sound still slightly pitiful but at least not a squeak anymore. “I brought you a friend.” Kurt perks up at that, sitting up a little, and Burt has to bite his lip to keep from laughing. Sometimes he swears the kitten actually understands him, and that he’s the one with the language barrier problem. “But he’s special, okay? You can’t play with him like you did the other kittens or your toys. You need to give him some space and let him adjust. Maybe then you can show him the ropes around here.”

Another meow and Kurt hops off the bed interestedly, poking his head into corners and holes in shelves, under the bed. He noses at Burt’s hand to move it, searching, and then does a double-sniff when he notices the difference in smell. He meows again and it sounds like a question.

Burt figures it’s probably easier to show rather than tell (he doesn’t exactly speak cat), so he plucks Kurt up from the bed, fitting the kitten into the palm of his hand and carrying him down the stairs. When they get to the nook underneath, Burt can see Blaine exactly as he left him, curled up into a ball and sleeping quietly. Not much has changed in the few hours since he brought Blaine home from the rescue shelter, not that Burt expected it to. But he figures a comfortable bed and a roof over Blaine’s head is a good place to start. They can work their way up to eating more and relaxing around people and other animals. Carole had said it might be easier to introduce them early on, while they were both still young and Blaine was still new to the household.

Blaine’s scent is stronger here; Burt can tell from the way Kurt sniffs around interestedly, eyes trained on Blaine’s tiny figure in the dog bed. Burt sets Kurt down on the floor but keeps a close eye on him, ready to intervene if necessary. Kurt waddles slowly over towards the bed but doesn’t breach it, just sniffs around some more. He doesn’t seem bothered by Blaine’s presence, but not all that enthusiastic either. He seems... cautious, and Burt is struck again with the thought that Kurt can actually understand him. Kurt sits back on his hind legs, perfectly poised, turns his head to look up and Burt and -- god _damn_ , those _eyes_.

He wonders if Blaine will be as much a sucker for them as he is.

*****

Blaine wakes up to an uncomfortable sensation on his insides.

He has to pee.

He blinks his eyes open slowly and yawns a little before he remembers where he is, and he shuts his mouth to avoid making any noise. He’s in a new house with a new human and he doesn’t know why or what to do. The man who brought him here showed him the bed but nothing else, letting Blaine sleep instead. And now Blaine has to pee and he doesn’t know where to go. He can’t pee here, not in this nice, warm bed, not indoors. He’s not sure where it’s okay, though, so he doesn’t move, just whines quietly, keeping the noise in the back of his throat so he doesn’t disrupt the human.

“Hi.”

Blaine jumps a little in place, looking around wildly to find the source of the noise. He finds it on top of a soft, cushiony looking thing, a bed for humans, maybe. It’s an animal, like him, small and furry, but it’s not a dog. At least he doesn’t think it is. There were all sorts of different kinds at the shelter, ones Blaine had never seen before, so this _could_ be one, but...

“Hi,” he answers quietly, refusing to move from his spot under the stairs.

“What’s the matter?” the animal asks him, looking at him curiously. “You were whining.”

Blaine looks away uncomfortably, not wanting to answer, but this might be his only option. He just hopes the human doesn’t get mad at him for it. “I have to go to the bathroom,” he admits.

“Oh,” the animal says brightly, hopping down from the big squishy thing to the floor. “Follow me. I can show you where to go.” It starts to trot away, down a long hallway, and Blaine hesitates a moment before scrambling to his feet. The animal is faster than he is, and Blaine can barely keep up. He can’t run well, he’s never been able to, and walking is hard enough. His legs are short, his muscles weak, and by the time they reach the hole in the wall, Blaine’s panting a little. “I usually go outside,” the animal explains. “Unless it’s raining or something.” Blaine pokes his head through the small opening in the wall, nose nudging the flap aside. He retreats almost immediately, though, and backs away until he runs into the wall. “What’s the matter?” the animal asks again.

“I -- I’m afraid of the dark,” Blaine whines. “I can’t go out there. I didn’t know it was nighttime.”

The animal looks at him thoughtfully for a moment before standing again, making its way back down the hallway. Blaine almost trips over himself to follow it, he has to go so badly, but he reminds himself to be grateful that he even has the help to begin with. The animal turns into a new room and stands next to a small box. Blaine peers inside and sniffs a little, cautious and confused. “Is that dirt?”

“Sort of,” the animal says. “It’s more like sand. It’s litter. It’s where you can go inside when you can’t go outside. Burt says it’s for cats, but you can use it. I don’t mind sharing.”

“Thank you,” Blaine yips quietly, his legs trembling as he tries to climb over the side of the box. It’s not that tall but Blaine’s no good at climbing. His legs just don’t work the way they’re supposed to, he knows that, but there’s nothing he can do about it. The animal -- the cat, he figures -- is nice enough to look away while Blaine goes, and he even paws some sand over the mess when Blaine stumbles out of the box. “Can you show me where the bed is again?”

“Sure,” the cat agrees, padding from the room. He’s not moving as fast, now, obviously slowing himself down so Blaine can keep up. It’s nice, so nice, the nicest anyone’s ever been to him, and Blaine doesn’t feel like he deserves it. “Do you like it? Burt said you’ve never had one before. Is it soft?”

Blaine nods next to him, trying not to make as much noise now that his problem is taken care of. “Is Burt the human? The man who brought me here?”

“Yeah, didn’t he -- oh!” The cat stops abruptly and turns to face Blaine, getting a little closer. Blaine jumps back, skittish, and the cat stays where he is. “Sorry,” he says quietly, the accompanying noise sounding a lot like a _meow_. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Burt said you might need some time to get used to things here. I’m Kurt.”

“Blaine,” he yips quietly, and behind Kurt, he can see his bed again. He hesitates a second before making his way past Kurt, careful not to touch, and curls back up in the corner of the bed again.

Kurt looks at him curiously for a minute before he says anything. “Will it bother you if I sleep up there?” he asks, indicating the big squishy bed next to a table. Blaine shakes his head and Kurt leaps onto it gracefully, paws kneading at the material happily before he too, curls up small to sleep.

The soft, steady purring sound is what lulls Blaine back to sleep.

*****

Blaine’s already awake by the time Burt comes downstairs. He’s still so young, so Burt expects him to sleep a lot, but he figures it’s time to let him outside and try to get him to eat. Blaine watches him carefully as he moves towards the nook under the stairs, his eyes following Burt’s frame as he kneels down next to the dog bed. “Hey,” he greets quietly. “Do you need to go out?”

Blaine seems to recognize the word and clambers to his feet, taking the words as an order rather than a question. He pads after Burt down the hallway, but it’s not until Burt reaches the small hole in the wall he’d installed for Kurt that he realizes Blaine’s stopped following him. He retraces his steps back down the hallway and has to do a doubletake when he pokes his head into the downstairs bathroom.

Blaine’s using the _litter box_.

Burt blinks at him in surprise, looking around until he spots Kurt curled up on top of the couch, eyes wide and tail twitching. When Burt looks back into the bathroom, Blaine’s awkwardly trying to kick litter over his mess with his back legs, and he fumbles over the edge of the box onto the tile of the bathroom floor. Burt’s lips thin into a line and pats his leg, determined. Blaine _has_ to eat, and the food Carole had instructed him to get is supposed to help with his development and joint pain. He’s just so _little_ , maybe a little tinier than Kurt, even, and it makes him so pissed off that someone would be allowed to treat another living thing like this.

“Come on, boy,” he encourages, patting his leg again. “Let’s get you some food, okay?” He walks into the kitchen in the hopes that Blaine will follow him, opening the cupboard door and grabbing two scoops of food. He deposits one into the circular dish with Blaine’s name scrawled on the side, the other into a similar dish with Kurt’s. Burt sets the bowls on the ground next to the island. He’s not going to push, not at first, but if Blaine doesn’t eat before the end of the day, he’ll try a different approach. Burt settles down at the table with his mug of coffee and cinnamon raisin bagel and tries to relax a little. He doesn’t have classes until Tuesday, which gives him a few days to get Blaine settled in.

It doesn’t take long for Kurt to mosey into the kitchen, well-rested and pleased at the prospect of breakfast. He walks close to Blaine, not enough to touch, but enough to be a little familiar, before settling down in front of his bowl and digging in, delighted. Blaine, on the other hand, hasn’t crossed the threshold to the kitchen. He hasn’t retreated to his bed, thankfully, but he’s sitting at the edge where the carpet meets the tile, observing them both. Burt sighs and turns his attention back to his breakfast, only to have Kurt come rubbing against his legs a few minutes later, meowing. Burt rolls his eyes and leans down to pick him up and scratch him under the chin. Kurt purrs in response, body going limp and pliant in Burt’s hand.

It startles him when he hears the grating sound of plastic being dragged across the tile, and together, he and Kurt watch as Blaine pulls his bowl across the floor with his mouth. He brings it all the way to the edge of the tile, realizes he can’t quite get it up and over onto the carpet, and settles for eating there. And, just like at the shelter, he barely gets a few decent-sized bites in before he pushes the bowl away and lets out the quietest whine Burt’s ever heard.

The sight of Blaine walking away from him makes anger flare up in him again. The problem isn’t that Blaine won’t eat -- it’s that he _can’t_ , which means his body’s tried to adjust to a limited food source. It’s one thing to be the runt of a litter. It’s another thing entirely to be _that small_ at nine weeks. He’s got enough fur to mask the fact that he’s underweight but it doesn’t make Burt feel any better because he _knows_ what’s underneath it, knows what the skin and bones must feel like. He can see the toll the lack of good nutrition has had on Blaine’s joints, can see it in the way his legs quiver and his feet stumble.

They’ll work up to being able to eat a full meal, Burt knows, especially once Blaine realizes that there will always be food, that it won’t go away, that it won’t be used as a form of punishment or praise.

It’ll take a lot more to get Blaine to trust him, and with a glance down into his lap, Burt wonders if cats speak dog.

*****

Blaine is getting a bath.

He hasn’t had all that many of them, to be honest, and it’s not that he’s afraid of water, but -- it puts him close to humans, close in a way that they have to touch him and lift him up and hold him and that’s --

He shivers a little, fur matted against his skin, and notices Burt frown down at him. “I guess it could be a little warmer,” he mumbles, and adjusts the handle on the faucet. The water does warm up, not a lot, but enough so that if he trembles, it won’t be because he’s cold. He hopes Burt can understand that, because Blaine doesn’t want to be ungrateful, doesn’t want to make him angry. He manages to keep the shaking down to his legs again, a feat he’s quite proud of.

Kurt’s head pokes up over the edge of the tub, his front paws holding him up so he can peer into the tub. “Bath time?” he asks, wrinkling his nose. The movement causes his whiskers to wiggle, and Blaine has to look away so he doesn’t bark at how cute it is. “I had my bath last week. I don’t like the water very much.”

Blaine doesn’t say anything back, partly because he’s not sure if Burt wants them to talk, but also because Burt’s hand is running up and down the back of Blaine’s neck and over the top of his head, trying to get him clean. It’s much too close to his face for comfort, and the tremors make their way back up to the rest of his body. He tucks his tail between his legs and hangs his head. He doesn’t dare whine.

There’s a slight clatter after a moment and Blaine looks up in surprise to see Kurt trying to navigate his way inside the tub, his paws spread wide in an effort to steady himself against the slippery surface. He’s knocked a bottle down along the way, which makes Blaine glance over at Burt in worry, but Burt just raises an eyebrow and watches him. Kurt’s trying to stay out of the way of the water, Blaine can tell, but he slips again and goes sliding across the tub directly into Blaine and the stream of water falling from the shower head. Blaine yips a little and falls over, the water making it too slippery for him to stay standing. Kurt meows rather unhappily but takes a seat next to Blaine, tail twitching fast and furious behind him.

“I thought you didn’t like the water,” Blaine says, trying to be quiet.

“I don’t,” Kurt meows, clearly miserable. “But you didn’t look like you do either, so I thought maybe it’d be more fun if we did it together.”

Burt looks between them for a moment before bursting out laughing, turning the spray on Kurt a little. Some of the water gets into Kurt’s eyes, which makes Blaine feel bad, but Kurt just blinks a few times and meows indignantly at Burt. Kurt seems perfectly able to take care of himself. He’s not afraid to be around Burt, not afraid to talk and play and eat.

The bath doesn’t last much longer, thankfully, and Burt plucks them from the tub one at a time to towel dry them. He sets Blaine back in his bed, towel wrapped around him, and Kurt close by, near the foot of the couch (Kurt told him what it was). Most of Blaine’s shaking can be attributed being cold, and it’s with his body tucked firmly under the towel that he watches Kurt lick himself dry.

Kurt looks over at him and catching him staring. Blaine retreats further under the towel so that only his nose is poking out. Kurt’s been nice to him so far. He gave Blaine a place to use the bathroom, he showed him around the house, he took a bath with him. Blaine doesn’t want to upset him either, especially when he might be the only one to ever be that nice to him. “You look cold,” Kurt meows, his voice sounding muffled and far away.

“A little,” Blaine admits with a yip.

Kurt doesn’t say anything for a moment, but when he does, his voice sounds a lot closer. “Can I -- will it bother you if I come in the bed with you?” Blaine wiggles his head so that the towel falls back a little, and he looks up at Kurt in surprise. Kurt’s right outside of his bed but not in it.

“Wh -- why do you want to do that?”

Kurt cocks his head to the side, studying him. “I thought maybe we could cuddle. I did it with my siblings before Burt brought me home. It was nice and warm.”

It’s another thing that Blaine hasn’t asked for that Kurt’s willing to give him, and Blaine doesn’t understand it. He’s not used to having to ask for things, and he feels bad that he’s had to ask Kurt for a few things already. But Kurt keeps on giving, keeps asking Blaine what he wants, keeps asking questions to make sure Blaine isn’t uncomfortable. He doesn’t deserve it, and he can’t understand why Kurt would do all of this. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Kurt’s ears and tail droop a little, and oh no, Blaine’s made him feel bad, that’s not okay. “Burt said -- when he brought you home, he said he brought me a friend, but that you were special. I thought this was how you treated friends.”

Blaine’s own ears droop now, and he lowers his eyes in shame. “I’m just scared,” he admits quietly.

“Of me?” Blaine shakes his head, and Kurt’s ears perk up considerably. “Can I come cuddle, then? It won’t scare you?” It takes Blaine a long few minutes, but eventually he nods and shrugs his way out of the towel, making room in the bed for Kurt. Kurt flops down onto his side and stretches, yawning happily. “Mmm, your bed is _soft_ ,” he mews, wiggling a little to get comfortable. “Okay, come here. Lay down next to my tummy.” Blaine does as he’s instructed, albeit tentatively, and when he’s gotten himself situated, his head ends up nestled between Kurt’s front paws. “Is this okay?”

Blaine nods and yawns in spite of himself, suddenly much warmer. It might be okay, he thinks, trusting Kurt. Kurt’s safe because Kurt’s not human, and he’s nicer than anyone Blaine’s ever met.

He thinks, as he falls asleep, Kurt’s rapid heartbeat and steady purring all around him, that he might like having a friend.

*****

Kurt wakes up to someone kicking him.

He blinks open his eyes sleepily and looks around, confused until --

Oh.

He fell asleep with Blaine.

Which means it’s Blaine kicking Kurt in his sleep, paws moving and twitching at a frantic pace, like he’s trying to run while lying down. He’s dreaming, Kurt can tell, because his eyes are closed and his whiskers are twitching. He starts to whimper, louder than Kurt’s ever heard him, and Kurt realizes Blaine might be having a _bad_ dream.

“Blaine.” No response. “Wake up.” Blaine just whimpers louder, his paws moving even faster and his chest moving up and down like he’s panting. Kurt sighs and untangles himself from around Blaine. He sits up a little and rests a paw on Blaine’s neck so he can duck his head down next to Blaine’s ear. “Blaine --”

Blaine wakes up with a startled yip, forcing Kurt to roll backwards off of him. He’s panting heavily now, eyes blinking rapidly as he looks around wildly for the source of the noise. “It’s just me,” Kurt grumbles, righting himself. Blaine’s eyes finally find him, and it’s then that Kurt notices he’s shaking again. “It’s okay,” he meows soothingly. “It was just a dream.”

But Blaine shakes his head and breathes out hard through his nose, barely suppressing a whimper. He crawls over to where Kurt is in the bed and immediately burrows his face against Kurt’s chest, curling up next to and under and around him. He’s everywhere, and Kurt can’t get away. Blaine smells so good and he’s so warm and his fur is so soft, but he’s so _scared_ that Kurt can’t find it in him to care about anything else than making him feel safe.

“It’s okay,” he purrs, hoping it’ll calm Blaine down. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll -- I’ll stay here with you tonight, if you want, okay?”

“I -- I --” Blaine yips, still shaking, and Kurt curls around him, wrapping Blaine in his warmth. “I’m supposed to be safe when I’m sleeping. I -- I don’t --”

“You are,” Kurt assures him, scooting closer. “Dreams aren’t real. I’m right here. I’m real.”

Blaine blinks up at him, the tremors ebbing a little, and Kurt feels warm all the way down to the nails in his paws. “Yeah,” he echos quietly, his breathing evening out as he snuggles closer. “You are.”

*****

“Hi.”

Kurt’s voice precedes him, a gesture Blaine is grateful for (Kurt is _so_ thoughtful). It only take a minute for his head to poke around the corner of the stairs to peer into the nook where Blaine’s bed is. “You don’t have to stay in there all day, you know.”

Blaine scoots forward in the bed a little and pokes his head around the corner to look at the front door. “Are -- are you sure? I won’t bother anybody?”

“Oh no,” Kurt dismisses as Blaine tentatively crawls out from his spot under the stairs. “Burt leaves in the morning with his books and stuff. He usually comes back around dinnertime.” Blaine steals one last furtive glance at the front door before turning to Kurt, who’s perched neatly at the foot of the stairs. “Have you been outside yet?” Blaine shakes his head. Kurt hops down off of the stairs and brushes past Blaine, their fur touching a little. “I can show you around, but be careful not to get too dirty. Otherwise we’ll have to get another bath.”

Kurt’s past the flap and through the hole in the wall quickly enough, but Blaine only pokes his head through it, looking around nervously. “You’re sure it’s okay? W -- with Burt?”

Kurt looks at him curiously from the patio before answering. “Well, yeah -- he tried to bring you out here before, remember? And you used the box inside?”

Blaine nods at the memory, stepping one of his front paws out of the hole before he freezes. “Was that -- was that bad? Does he want me to go outside instead? I just -- you said it was okay to use the box, and --”

“Blaine,” Kurt meows. “It’s okay. Come outside. I’m your friend. I’m not going to get you into trouble.”

It takes a few more minutes to get him out of the house and onto the patio, and a few more to get him from the patio to the grass. He blinks his eyes a lot and tries not to look right at the sun. When they finally get to walking around the edge of the grass, Blaine hangs his head and mumbles out an apology. “I’m sorry. I don’t -- I don’t really know what to do. I’ve never had a friend before.”

“Really?” Kurt asks interestedly. “Well I don’t think it’s too hard. I think you just have to spend time together and be nice and take care of each other.”

“Do you -- do you have any other friends?” Blaine asks.

“Not really,” Kurt says, sniffing around a little as they make their second lap around the yard. “I can hear other animals on the other side of the fence, but I’m too little to get up there and look. Maybe someday.” He looks over at Blaine and nudges Blaine’s side companionably. “But I have you and Burt and that’s good enough for me.”

“Burt?”

Kurt stops to sniff at a spot on the ground before wrinkling his nose in displeasure and moving on. “I know it’s silly, because he’s a human and he can’t even speak our language, but he does everything a friend’s supposed to do. He spends time with me and takes care of me.”

“And he’s -- he’s nice to you?” Blaine asks quietly.

Kurt stops at that, whiskers twitching as he looks Blaine up and down. “You’re scared of Burt?”

Blaine looks away uncomfortably. “I -- I don’t -- humans are just --” He cuts himself off with a low whine and sits down on the grass, head hanging low.

Kurt comes to sit next to him and rubs up against Blaine affectionately. “It’s okay. I don’t -- I don’t understand why, but you haven’t been here a long time. I guess -- I guess I’ll let you get to know him yourself, but you don’t have to be so afraid, you know. He wants to be your friend too.”

Blaine nuzzles against Kurt’s side gratefully but doesn’t want to talk about humans a whole lot more, at least not right now. “Thank you for cuddling last night.”

“Of course,” Kurt purrs. “That’s what friends are for.”

Blaine sniffs a little, content to stay like this for a little while. He sniffs again, and again, and follows his nose where it leads him. “What are these?”

Kurt sidles up next to him, keeping close. “Flowers. Haven’t you ever seen them before?”

Blaine shakes his head and leans in a little closer, taking another sniff. “They smell nice.” He pulls away and doesn’t make eye contact when he adds, “You smelled nice too, after the bath last night.” He can hear Kurt purr a little at that, clearly pleased.

Blaine starts at the noise behind them and turns around, tail between his legs. There’s water coming up out of the grass, noisy and almost hitting him in the face. He backs away a little and almost falls tail first into the dirt. “It’s -- it’s raining from the ground!”

“Sprinklers,” Kurt meows loudly. “It means the flowers are thirsty. Come on, let’s go back inside, this way.” He leads the way back to the patio gracefully, darting around the rain-makers and weaving a path across the yard. Blaine follows him clumsily, tripping over his own feet (he didn’t realize how sore his legs were from all the walking). He’s sure he gets a little wet along the way, and he can’t go inside, not now, not like this.

“Th -- thank you,” Blaine barks, shivering a little. “I -- I don’t think I got too dirty, just a little wet. I tried to stay away but it was hard. The noise scared me --”

Kurt cuts him off with a lick to his ear to help dry him off, and Blaine can feel him purring when he leans up against Blaine’s side. “It’s okay,” he says. “You don’t have to worry. We’re friends. I’ll always be here to protect you.”

Blaine tilts his head to the side a little, chasing the softness of Kurt’s fur. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

*****

Blaine’s the only one who hears the yowl from the yard, and it’s with short, stubby legs and a pounding heart that he pads outside to look for Kurt. Kurt’s sitting next to the rosebush, one of his paws hanging limply in the air. “Stupid pokers,” he hisses, licking a little at his paw before withdrawing sharply, hissing even more.

“What’s the matter?” Blaine asks. “Did you hurt your paw?”

Kurt glares at the rosebush and nods. “One of the pokers from the flower got into my paw. It hurts and I can’t get it out.” He lies down on the grass, pad of his paw turned up so it doesn’t touch the ground. “I was trying to get you one of flowers, but the stupid pokers got me before I could get it --”

“You were trying to get me a flower?”

Kurt looks away for a minute, like he’s regretting telling the truth, but he looks back at Blaine, his eyes all soft and warm. “Well I wanted -- I wanted to do something nice for you, like in that movie we saw with the dogs the other day, you know? But Burt doesn’t like it when I get into the human food, and you always smell the flowers when we come outside, so I thought you might like one.” His paw twitches uncomfortably on the ground. “Is -- was that a bad idea? Do you not want one?”

“No, it’s not that,” Blaine yips, rushing to explain. “It’s just -- I can never guess what you’re going to do. You always surprise me.”

Kurt doesn’t look particularly happy at that piece of information, and his tail twitches rapidly in the grass. “That’s not good, then. Burt told me not to surprise you. He said you got scared easily and --”

“Kurt.” Blaine pads over to him and noses his ear. “I would love a flower. But you got hurt trying to get me one. I don’t want that.”

Kurt purrs a little and nudges Blaine’s chin with his head. “I -- can you get Burt? I think he can get it out, or take me to the vet. I don’t know if I can walk all the way inside.”

Blaine shakes, his tail thumping on the ground a little. He still hasn’t really warmed up to Burt yet, despite Kurt’s promises that he’s a good human, despite the food and the bed and the gentle words. He’s never tried to touch Blaine, not unless he has to, but still -- Blaine’s _scared_. He doesn’t like asking for attention, doesn’t like the loud yelling and the hard hands that come with it.

But Kurt _mews_ at him, a soft _please_ and a gentle nudge with his head again, and Blaine’s heart breaks a little. He doesn’t want Kurt to hurt either.

Blaine gallops back into the house through the hole in the wall, flap making a lot of noise behind him as he rushes past it. He goes as fast as he can and it’s still not fast enough, it’s never going to be fast enough. He finds Burt in the kitchen and comes to an abrupt stop, tripping over his own paws and landing on the carpet just outside of the kitchen with an _oomph_.

Burt looks up from his textbook and chuckles at him. “You okay there, Squirt?”

Blaine scrambles to his feet and pads into the kitchen carefully, his nails clicking against the tile. He winces a little at the noise, hoping it doesn’t bother Burt. Burt sets the book down as Blaine crosses the kitchen, watching him with curious eyes. It takes all of Blaine’s courage to get within inches of Burt. He hesitates for the space of a second, thinks about Kurt waiting for him outside, and gently prods Burt’s leg with his nose. He pulls back almost immediately, feet sliding against the tile, nails scratching some more.

Burt doesn’t move for a second, but when he does, it’s slow, deliberate. He bends over a little and stretches out a hand, palm facing up, and waits.

Blaine blinks at him a little, torn between being surprised or even more scared, and eventually just goes for it. He noses Burt’s hand with his wet nose and goes bounding out of the room with a bark, hoping Burt will follow. And it’s not a _good_ bark, Blaine knows that, because he’s a puppy and it sounds silly and Burt can’t really understand him. But he has to _try_ , because he’ll never forgive himself if Kurt keeps hurting. Blaine looks through the glass door once he’s out on the patio; Burt’s standing up now, watching him curiously. It takes another bark -- a yip, really -- for Burt to open the door and Blaine to lead the way across the yard to where Kurt’s waiting for them.

Kurt meows when he sees them -- a real, loud, grown-up meow that Blaine’s a little jealous of -- and immediately stretches out his paws for Burt. It’s all a blur from there for Blaine, going into the house and Kurt getting put in the cage ( _no, no, why is he in a cage, this is all wrong_ ) and Burt putting on his shoes. “No,” Blaine barks ferociously. “No, you’re not supposed to go in a cage, Kurt, you said he’d take care of you, you said --”

“Blaine,” Kurt meows patiently. “Blaine, it’s okay. I’m going to the vet. They’ll take care of my paw, okay? I promise it’ll be okay.”

Blaine presses his nose against the door of the cage and tries to ignore the bad memories it brings back. “Promise?”

“I promise,” Kurt says again. “Blaine, you did so _good_ , you helped. I know how scared you were and you were so _brave_. Thank you.”

“Me?” Blaine yips quietly, pressing his face a little closer. “I’m not brave. I’m like the big kitty from the story we saw the other day. I don’t have c -- co -- courage.”

“It’ll be okay, buddy,” Burt assures him, reaching down for the handle of the cage. “Thanks for getting me. Good boy.”

The praise catches Blaine off guard, but he doesn’t have time to dwell on it. Kurt stretches his uninjured paw through one of the holes of the cage door as the cage gets lifted off of the ground, and Blaine hurries to reach out his own, pressing their paws together.

“I promise.”

*****

Blaine is restless.

It’s the opposite of how he usually operates, or at least how he used to. He’s been a little more adventurous and outgoing since he’s become friends with Kurt, but there’s something about being able to retreat to his bed and escape from the world that Blaine still finds extremely comforting.

Until today.

Today, Blaine can’t sit still. He’s worried, so worried, and he can’t stop pacing the floors. He’s already made it around the house twice, which says something about how long Burt and Kurt have been gone, with how slow Blaine is on his useless legs. He can feel his legs getting tired, after so much walking (and maybe he should have confined himself to downstairs because _ow_ , climbing the stairs that much hurts). He’s tried nibbling on food to distract himself but his tummy already feels full, like if he eats another bite he’ll just get sick.

He hopes Kurt is okay.

It’s close to dinner time, Blaine can tell, because the little box with the bird chirps five times, and there’s always food after five times, when they get home. Burt immediately starts to climb the stairs and Blaine’s legs hurt so _bad_ but he has to, he has to make sure Kurt is okay, so he grunts and whines and struggles his way up the stairs behind them. By the time Blaine catches up to them in the bedroom, he’s panting and Burt’s set Kurt at the foot of the bed. Kurt can usually find a way to jump there on his own, with the help of a box or a dresser or something, but Blaine’s legs don’t work well enough to do that. The only way up on that bed with Kurt is to ask Burt to pick him up and put him there.

Blaine thinks he can do that now.

It’d been so easy to trust Kurt, in the beginning. Kurt was like him, Kurt understood him, Kurt wasn’t -- isn’t human. He’s so much kinder than that. And of all of the things Kurt’s tried to teach him, Blaine thinks this lesson might be the most important one.

Not all humans are going to hurt him.

Most aren’t, probably. And Burt won’t. Kurt’s proven that every day, with the trust he grants Burt. He’s not afraid to ask and play and _be_. And Burt -- Burt’s never given him any reason not to trust him. He’s been kind and gentle and given them more than Blaine could ever think to ask for. And earlier today, when he’d actually been hurt, Kurt had asked for Burt, because he knew that Burt would take care of him. Kurt trusted him.

Blaine thinks he can now, too.

“He’ll be okay, buddy,” Burt says gently, noticing him staring up at Kurt’s sleeping frame on the bed. But Blaine wants to see for himself, wants to be there for Kurt like Kurt was for him. He stands up on his hind legs and paws at the blanket hanging off the bed, silently requesting to be lifted up. He can see the surprise in Burt’s face, but Burt bends over a little, waiting before he stretches a hand out. “You have to be gentle, okay? He needs to rest and stay off of it for a day or so.” Blaine wiggles a little, anxious, and it’s with extreme care that Burt reaches under him to lift him up by the stomach.

Blaine’s on the bed and that’s it, no more contact, nothing. It’s soft and warm and squishy up here, perfect, and Blaine starts to calm down as he pads over to sniff at Kurt. He seems okay, sleeping like this, but he has a blue bandage wrapped around his paw and Blaine just wants to lick it and make it better. He leans in, sniffing closer to it, but Burt’s fingers push between them gently. “You can’t lick it,” he admonishes, and that sounds _silly_ to Blaine but he won’t dare disobey.

Burt starts to push himself up off of the bed after a moment, but before he can, Blaine pads back over to him and nudges Burt’s hand with his nose. Burt offers it to him, palm up, and Blaine takes the opportunity to sniff it a little, familiarizing himself with the scent. It’s when he licks a broad stripe across Burt’s palm in gratitude that Burt laughs and brings his fingers closer to scratch Blaine under the chin and oh, that feels nice. Blaine juts his chin out a little farther, chasing the feeling, and Burt’s fingers move around to the back of his neck, scratching behind Blaine’s ear. That feels even _better_ , and Blaine finds himself growing a little sleepy as he rests his head on Burt’s thigh. He starts to roll onto his side out of some strange sort of instinct and then Burt’s hand is drifting down to his belly and --

_Oh._

Oh, having his belly scratched is the absolute best thing in the world.

He rolls onto his back to give Burt more access and _seriously_ , why didn’t anyone tell him that humans were capable of being this _awesome_? He lets out a soft noise somewhere between a bark and a howl, the noise coming out like a _roooo_ , and Burt just laughs at him again. “I guess we’re good then, huh?” Blaine rolls over onto his tummy and scoots forward to lick at Burt’s hand again because _yes_ , yes Burt is a good human. He took care of Kurt and he’s taking care of Blaine and he gives the best pets and scratches ever. Burt is --

Burt is his friend.

Burt removes his hand from Blaine’s head mid-pet and extends his arm a little. “Hey, no, no licking.”

Blaine turns around and watches as Kurt tries to find a way to lick at his paw around the bandage. He bounds over to Kurt in a second, glad Kurt’s awake, but nudges Kurt’s face away from his paw. “No, Kurt, you can’t,” Blaine yips. “You have to let it get better. Leave it alone.”

Kurt lets out a muffled growl, disgruntled, but he takes advantage of Blaine’s proximity to nestle himself closer. Blaine complies easily, letting Kurt nestle up against his tummy for comfort. Blaine feels a little braver like this, having given Burt a chance. With his legs tangled with Kurt’s and their paws touching, Blaine feels like he could do just about anything.

And later, after a nap and dinner, when they curl up in Blaine’s bed to sleep for the night and find the rose from the garden free of pokers, Blaine doesn’t have to ask to know where it came from.

*****

The day Blaine comes trotting to the front door, keys in mouth, to deliver them to a forgetful Burt, is the day that makes the difference.

Each day means something now, marks a new progression and sign of his slow rehabilitation. It’s supposed to be easier, now. And it is, in some ways. Blaine can stay on his feet longer, can eat more in one sitting, isn’t afraid to be touched (mostly). He has someone to spend his days with and a warm place to sleep.

Each day is easier than the last, but it’s never just that. There’s always something -- the sound of sirens outside, the accidental upturn of a hand that causes Blaine to flinch and cower, the bowl of food he can never quite seem to finish, the night the power goes out and Blaine whines in the dark.

But today is different.

Today, Burt comes home before five chirps and finds them curled up on the couch together, Kurt cleaning Blaine’s ears.

It’s the box that makes the difference, or rather, what’s in it.

Blaine pads over as Burt pries open the box, and Kurt peers into it from his new perch on top of the couch. “Oh,” Kurt purrs, curling up small, his eyes going all warm and fuzzy. “Oh _Blaine_.”

“What?” he asks, pawing at Burt’s knee to try and peek inside the box. He doesn’t have to wait long to find out, and he scoots back a little, sitting down as Burt unearths the small circular object. Blaine surveys it curiously, eyes darting up to where Kurt’s curled up on top of the couch. “You have one of those, don’t you?”

Kurt nods and lifts his head a little, the shiny circle dangling from his neck. “It’s a collar, Blaine, with a name tag and everything.”

“So I have to wear it? Does it hurt?”

“No,” Kurt meows. “It tells other humans that you have a home. It means you get to stay. It means we’re a family.”

_Family_.

Blaine watches with big eyes as Burt slowly reaches out to fix the collar around his neck, the small silver circle dangling from it with markings that are obviously Blaine’s name in human language. It’s not too tight, so Blaine can breathe, and it’s not too loose, which means it won’t fall off. The circle presses against Blaine’s chest just over his heart, and it’s with closed eyes that he chases Burt’s hand with his nose as Burt retreats. Burt stops and his palm isn’t facing up like it normally is around Blaine but sideways, letting Blaine nuzzle into it. He can feel Burt’s fingers rub against his fur and skin affectionately but it’s not enough. Blaine opens his eyes just enough to stumble forward into Burt’s lap and press himself against Burt’s chest.

The slow and steady _thump-thump_ of Burt’s heartbeat under his ear makes Blaine feel loved, cared for. He feels like he’s wanted.

The moment lasts a little longer than previous ones, and Blaine’s pretty sure Burt’s wearing a little bit of a dopey smile when he sets Blaine on the floor and retreats into the kitchen with his books. Kurt leaps from the couch with grace and ease, his collar standing out against his fur. Blaine can’t really see his own but he knows it’s there, unique and noticeable. He can feel the light weight of it around his neck and he somehow doesn’t feel suffocated or caged.

He feels like he matters.

“Don’t you like it?” Kurt asks quietly, rubbing up against his side affectionately.

Blaine nods, still unable to speak. He can do anything else -- he can sit, he can lie down, he can roll over and sit still and stay. Speaking has always been the hardest, because speaking means using his voice. Speaking means he exists, and it means others know he exists. That hasn’t always been okay.

It’s so much more than that now.

“I told you,” Kurt mews happily, prancing over into Blaine’s bed and curling up again, a silent invitation for Blaine to rejoin him. “I told you he wanted to be friends.”

Blaine nods and follows, curling up into Kurt’s warmth but keeping his ears out of licking distance. “And I told you I’ve never had one before.” He huffs out through his nose and closes his eyes, trying to focus on the feeling of Kurt wrapped up around him. “I lived with humans before.”

“At the shelter?”

Blaine shakes his head and opens his eyes. It’s always easier to talk to Kurt when Blaine looks at him. Blaine thinks it’s his eyes, the way they get big and warm and a little sparkly whenever he looks at Blaine. It’s hard to look away. “No, before that. When I was little.”

“Oh,” Kurt says agreeably, leaning forward and licking the top of Blaine’s head a little, clearly wanting to resume his earlier cleaning. “Like when you were with your siblings and your mama?” But Blaine shakes his head again, and Kurt pulls back to look down at him, confused. “Didn’t you have a family before?”

“I think I did,” Blaine says slowly, wiggling his nose a little as he tries to remember. “I don’t remember my mom much. They took me away from her when I was really little, after I didn’t need the milk anymore.”

“The humans?”

Another nod. “And I know I had brothers and sisters, but they were all in a different cage. They were bigger.”

It’s Kurt’s turn to wiggle his nose, and he doesn’t look very happy at the news. “They made you sleep alone because you were little?”

Blaine turns his eyes up to look at Kurt directly again. “They weren’t good humans, Kurt. They weren’t nice.”

“You were scared of them.” At Blaine’s affirming nod, Kurt growls a little, low and in his belly. “What did they do to you?”

“They --” Blaine pauses and lets out an unexpected yip, suddenly nervous at telling Kurt all of the bad things he tries so hard to forget. “You have to promise,” he begs earnestly, “not to tell. I can’t -- you’re special, Kurt. You’re so special to me, and you make me feel safe. But I can’t tell anybody else. It hurts too much. Promise you’ll keep it between us.”

“Like a secret?”

“Like a secret.”

“Okay,” Kurt meows, his voice small. “I won’t -- I won’t tell. I just want to understand, Blaine. I like making you feel safe.”

Blaine rubs his face against Kurt’s neck affectionately, content to stay there for a moment. When he pulls away, he keeps his eyes trained on their paws, intent on telling the story as quickly as possible. “They kept me in a cage away from the rest of my brothers and sisters,” he begins again. “It was dark, most of the time, and they didn’t always pay attention to me. Most days I only got to eat once. Sometimes I didn’t eat at all.”

“They didn’t _feed you_?” Kurt asks, his meow a little strangled and high-pitched.

“Not always,” Blaine answers, voice small. “And my tummy -- I think my tummy got smaller, because there wasn’t always food in it. After a while, it hurt if I ate too much. There wasn’t enough room in my tummy.”

Kurt lets out another growl, this time through his nose, and Blaine finds himself suddenly grateful that Kurt’s never been upset with him. “What else?” Kurt prompts after a few moments. “What about the noises and the touching? You were scared of those when you got here. You still are, sometimes.”

“I know,” Blaine admits, resting his chin on his paws. “They were always loud, always angry. When it was quiet, I could sleep. I knew it was safe when it was quiet. And --” He pauses, whines low in his throat, and looks back up at Kurt. “I was always afraid -- I still am afraid, sometimes -- to do anything. I never knew what was okay and what wasn’t.”

“They didn’t tell you?”

Blaine shifts on the bed uncomfortably, and he can feel Kurt curl his tail around Blaine’s in a comforting gesture. “They -- they hit me, sometimes. With their hands, or with rolls of paper.”

Kurt blinks rapidly at him, quiet and unmoving. “They _hit you_?”

“And I didn’t -- I just didn’t understand,” Blaine says in a rush, barreling on. “I thought at first that I was doing something bad, but they still hit me when I tried to do something different, and I just -- I got scared. I was safest when they left me alone, so I stayed in my corner and tried not to make any noise or bother them.”

“ _Blaine_ ,” Kurt mews pitifully, nestling his neck against Blaine’s. “Blaine, how did you get out of there?”

“The shelter,” Blaine explains, body relaxing against Kurt’s now that the hard part is over. “The shelter sent people to take us away. There was a lady who took me there -- she was warm and quiet and nice to me, but I was too scared of humans then. And then Burt brought me here and I met you and --” Kurt licks at his chin encouragingly. “I never got to thank her for rescuing me.”

Kurt shifts so that his head is resting against Blaine’s chest, his paws petting at the name tag that dangles from Blaine’s collar. “How come you didn’t tell me before?”

“I don’t like to think about it,” Blaine admits. “I still -- I still remember, sometimes, when I’m dreaming. But mostly sleeping is good. Sleeping is safe. No one can get to me if I’m asleep.”

“Of course not,” Kurt meows. “I wouldn’t let them.”

“I know,” Blaine barks back, tail wagging a little. “You’ll always be here to protect me, right?”

Kurt nods and looks up at him, eyes big and warm and sparkling again, and Blaine licks at Kurt’s ear when he hears Kurt purring. “So you really like it?” Kurt asks, batting at the name tag again.

“I really do,” Blaine promises. “It means I have a family now.”

*****

Toys are confusing.

At first.

Kurt has a few, scattered around the house, and he always seems happy when he picks them up. There’s the small stuffed mouse, all glittery. There’s the long string of ribbon, and the gang of plastic straws that Kurt banishes to underneath the stove (Blaine’s pretty sure Burt doesn’t know about that). There’s the scratching post. And then there are the small, furry balls that make noise when they roll across the floor. Blaine finds those a little interesting.

They have a good time together during the day, Kurt and Blaine, when Burt’s off at classes or work. They nap together and walk outside in the yard to listen to the birds and smell the flowers (although they’re much more careful not to touch the roses, now). They eat together, now, bowls side by side near the island in the kitchen, bathe together and sometimes, at night, when Burt comes home and opens his books, they turn on the bright, noisy box in the living room to watch stories (Burt put on one about dalmatians, once, and Blaine had spend half of it with his head buried under a pillow because it was so scary and reminded him of things he didn’t want to think about).

But they’re young, too, and Kurt spends part of his day running around with his toys. And Blaine... doesn’t really understand it. Kurt calls it playing, says that it’s fun, but Blaine’s never done anything like that, never felt “fun.” He knows when something feels good, or nice, or bad, or hurtful. He likes spending time with Kurt, likes being outside, likes napping. But he doesn’t understand the appeal of chasing strings and balls and sparkly animals across the house. He’s never had any toys.

The balls, though. Those are interesting. He thinks it’s the noise they make when they roll across the floor, but he hardly has any time to really think about it before Kurt’s tearing after it, paws diving for it as he tumbles forward into a roll. And Kurt -- well, Kurt’s far more interesting than the ball.

Burt’s obviously been paying attention, though, and it’s not long after Blaine starts to get interested in the balls that he brings home a box and sets it on the kitchen table, casting a smile at Blaine. “I have something for you.” Blaine pads into the kitchen curiously, head tilted to the side as Burt starts to unpack the contents of the box and place them on the kitchen floor. There are balls, a lot like Kurt’s, but a little bigger, and Blaine can tell as they roll in his direction that they don’t make noise. There’s a thick rope that Burt dangles in front of him, but Blaine’s not sure exactly what he’s supposed to do with it.

Apparently Kurt does, though, judging by the way he comes tearing into the kitchen. He leaps up off of the floor, paws batting at the frayed ends of the rope, and Burt pulls it away with a laugh. “Not for you, silly.”

There’s one more toy in the box, and it’s with a wide grin that Burt kneels down on the floor to sit it in front of Blaine. “Blaine, meet Rosie the hedgehog.”

Blaine’s not sure if Rosie’s real or not, though. She’s an animal, like them, but she’s not soft, and she doesn’t move or make any noise. Blaine walks over to her cautiously and nudges her with his nose, and she promptly falls over onto her side. Blaine frowns and moves closer, poking at her with his paw. Her side squishes under the weight of his paw and she lets out a squeak. Blaine jumps back, startled, but he can tell by Burt’s laugh that it’s okay. He pushes both paws into her side now, expecting the squeak, and watches as she squishes all the way until she’s flat. He moves away again, alarmed that he’s hurt her. Her side starts to move back up again, making her look normal, and Blaine watches her, fascinated.

“How does she _do_ that?” Blaine asks.

“I don’t know,” Kurt answers distractedly, chewing happily at the frayed ends of the rope, “but it’s fun, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know,” Blaine answers slowly, moving towards her again, “but I could do this all day.” He circles around Rosie slowly, trying to figure out the best way to jump on her to keep her squished. He decides surprise is his best plan of attack and dives at her, yipping happily when she lets out another squeak and starts to get flat again. Every time he moves his paws away, though, she fills up again, and Blaine realizes that there’s no limit to how many times he can do this. He turns to Burt, tail wagging, and licks Burt’s hand. “Thank you,” he barks.

There’s a slight noise next to them as the box falls to the floor, and Burt sighs when he realizes that Kurt’s jumped on the table and knocked it over. “Blaine, it’s a _train_.”

“It’s a box --”

“No, we can pretend,” Kurt meows enthusiastically. “It’s a train. Get inside, I’ll be the conductor.”

“It won’t move,” Blaine tries to explain, but Kurt’s already climbing inside.

“You be the train whistle,” Kurt instructs. “Can you make the noise?”

Blaine climbs into the box, secretly pleased that it’s easier on his legs than it has been. “I don’t understand how it’s a train.”

“We’re pretending,” Kurt explains. “It’s a game. We’re playing a game. Don’t you want to ride in a train?”

“I guess so.”

“Make the noise,” Kurt asks again, eager. Blaine lifts his head and howls as best as he can, trying to imitate the train noise they hear going by the house sometimes. It makes Burt laugh and Kurt run around him in circles, excited.

“Nothing beats a cardboard box, though, does it?” Burt sighs, but he’s smiling.

Conductor Kurt turns the box-train into a box-ship, where he’s captain and Blaine’s his first mate, and then into a castle, where they’re princes and Kurt wears a crown made out of the ribbons he loves so much.

Blaine might not understand what it means to play yet, not fully, but if he gets to do it with Kurt, he’d do it all day long.

*****

Blaine’s first walk is memorable.

He’s a little nervous, with the stories he’s heard. There’ll be so many people, other dogs, so many sounds and smells and things going on. Blaine’s not sure he can handle it all but he wants to _try_ , Kurt makes him want to try. Blaine doesn’t want to spend the rest of his life afraid. He wants to enjoy it the way everyone tells him he’s supposed to.

He’s sitting obediently by the front door waiting for Burt to come and attach the leash to his collar when Kurt comes whisking down the stairs, breathless. “There you are! I was hoping you hadn’t left yet.”

Blaine leans against his side a little. “Are you sure you can’t come to the park with us?”

Kurt nods against his fur. “I’m sure. But I wanted to give you something before you left. Something that will give you luck and help you be brave.”

Blaine sits back up straight and eyes him warily. “You didn’t go back near the rosebush, did you?”

Kurt shakes his head and fidgets uncomfortably on his feet, tail swishing behind him. “I -- I wanted to --”

“Sorry Kurt, you’re going to have to sit this one out,” Burt announces as he joins them, kneeling next to Blaine. “If I can figure out how to get you to sit still and keep to the leash, maybe, but I’m not holding out a whole lot of hope.” Kurt meows at him indignantly, and Burt laughs at him. “It’s not a cat thing. It’s a _you’re stubborn_ thing.” He hooks the clasp of the leash to the hook in Blaine’s collar and slips into his shoes (they seem like such good things to chew on but Blaine wouldn’t _dare_ ).

Blaine stands up and takes a deep breath to steady himself so he doesn’t shake at the thought of the park. “I’ll be back,” he promises.

“Wait,” Kurt meows, following them to the door as Burt rests a hand on the doorknob. Blaine does, he waits patiently for Kurt’s good luck gift. He thinks it might be the small stuffed mouse Kurt likes to play with, the glittery one that smells like catnip. It would be so nice of him, just like Kurt to --

Kurt leans in and licks Blaine square on the nose, blinking at him once before bolting back up the stairs.

Blaine can’t _move_.

He doesn’t hear Burt’s gentle words, doesn’t mind the prodding to get him to walk out the door, doesn’t hear the teasing (“Can’t exactly call that puppy love, can you?”). He walks to the park in a daze, the feel of Kurt’s tongue on his nose buzzing and lingering.

It’s the start of a good day.

The park is big, the whole _world_ is big but Blaine feels okay, anchored to his little patch by the leash Burt’s attached to him. He feels... He feels safe, _protected_ in a way he’d never thought he’d feel around another human. It’s Kurt who’s gotten him this far, and Blaine thinks he’s okay with Burt walking him the rest of the way.

Thinking about Kurt makes his heart feel like it fills up his whole insides, though, so Blaine ends up bounding down the sidewalk and into the grass with a giddy bark. Burt actually has to jog to keep up with him. The grass is a little prickly but also soft, softer than the sidewalk. Blaine wishes there were more in the yard at home, but there’s so _much_ of it here. He can run around in it and sniff it and, well, he might find a more private place to do his business (a bush, maybe), and he wouldn’t dare dig a hole in such a pretty place. But it’s warm out and Blaine can hear birds and is that a squirrel and _Kurt kissed him_.

It’s the memory of that that causes Blaine to flop on his back in the middle of the grass, panting happily. He rolls around it it, so happy he could _howl_.

“Oh!”

Blaine flips onto his tummy and looks up, startled. It’s the lady from the shelter looking down at him, her whole face lit up in a smile, and Blaine can’t bring himself to look away. Burt catches up to him, then, petting the back of Blaine’s head absently while he talks to her. They’re friends, Blaine can tell by the way they talk, the smiles on their faces. He follows them silently over to one of the park benches, eyes fixed on her, and can’t even be bothered to be distracted by the delicious smelling human food they’re eating (he’ll have to tell Kurt about it later, about the way it looks the tower of a castle).

Blaine wonders if she remembers him. He’d been too scared to be friends with her before -- before Kurt and Burt and a home where he felt safe. Now, though, Blaine thinks he could be. He’s just not sure how.

Carole follows them home, luckily, eyes falling to Blaine’s figure every once in awhile (and Blaine bets she’s wondering if _he_ remembers _her_ ). He’s so distracted when they walk in the front door that he’s forgotten all about the earlier events of the day, and it’s not until Burt’s unclipped the leash from his collar and Blaine’s pacing the floor next to his bed that he remembers Kurt’s been waiting for him.

“Who’s that lady?”

Blaine looks up in surprise, first at Kurt, who’s perched at the foot of the stairs, and then over to where Burt and the lady are sitting in the kitchen. “That’s the lady from the shelter,” Blaine answers quietly. “We saw her at the park.”

Kurt surveys her curiously for a minute. “The lady from the shelter,” he echos. “The one who helped take you away from those horrible humans?” Blaine nods, and that’s all it takes for Kurt to saunter into the kitchen and weave in and out of her legs, meowing happily. And Blaine knows what Kurt’s trying to do, know that Kurt’s trying to say thank you. He wishes she could understand them.

The little box with the bird chirps five times, and Blaine has an idea.

It’s Burt who fills up their bowls, and for the first time in a long time, Blaine drags his bowl over to the edge of the kitchen. “What are you doing?” Kurt meows at him, clearly a little offended. “Why are you eating all the way over there?”

Blaine chews his food quietly and waits until the humans are distracted with their own food to answer. “I’m trying to show her I remember her,” Blaine explains. “I want to thank her too.” Kurt doesn’t say anything in response, but Blaine thinks he understands.

When his bowl is empty, he pushes it across the kitchen floor with his nose until it hits her feet.

She looks down and gives him the biggest smile he’s ever seen. “I missed you.”

Blaine licks at her toes happily, which causes her to try and hide them from him with a loud giggle. It doesn’t really work, though, and when she’s given up trying to hide them, Blaine pulls away with a surprised yip. “Kurt! Kurt, come look at her toes! They’re all shiny!”

Kurt comes over to investigate, licks one of her toes, and pulls away quickly, wiggling his nose in distaste. “They don’t taste very good.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to eat them --”

He grows quiet when Kurt leans against him, soft and warm and purring, and it’s with the tiniest voice that Kurt says, “I missed you too, Blaine.”

“Adorable,” the lady says above them.

“You gotta be more specific,” Burt chuckles, and the lady laughs with him, her attention diverted.

“Can we take a nap?” Blaine asks quietly. “I walked a lot today. My legs are kind of tired.” Kurt nods against his side and together, they retreat to the bed in nook underneath the stairs -- _their bed_ now, and Blaine can’t think of it any other way. Kurt hasn’t slept anywhere else since the night of Blaine’s first bath.

It’s Blaine who flops on his side first this time, Kurt who snuggles up against his tummy, his head tucked between Blaine’s front paws. Kurt lets out a yawn and twists a little so they’re facing each other. “Tell me about the park,” he asks sleepily.

“It’s big and green and there are lots of trees,” Blaine tells him, equally sleepy. “And lots of people and dogs and noises and smells. And _squirrels_ , Kurt, like the ones we see up in the trees in the yard that we can’t get to, the ones that won’t talk to us. And there’s lots of grass there, more than we have, it’s where we saw the lady from the shelter.” He lets out a happy noise and tucks his chin over Kurt’s head, eyes drooping. “I had the best day.”

“Were you scared at all?”

Blaine pulls back at that, blinking his eyes a little to focus on Kurt’s face. “No,” he answers quietly. “I felt brave.”

Kurt purrs, pleased. “My gift worked then.”

“It did,” Blaine agrees. “There were lots of good things about today.” He leans in slowly, a little tentative, and watches Kurt’s eyes grow as Blaine touches their noses together. “But I think,” he yips, tongue darting out to lick at Kurt’s nose, a return of the kiss Kurt had given him earlier, “that you were my favorite part.”

*****


End file.
